Between Two Districts
by goddessoflightandshadow
Summary: Cato was an enigma. He was the strongest competitor here, yet it seemed as though his steel blue eyes grew soft when he was around me. He was trained to kill, to kill people like me. And yet, when he took me into his arms, I felt safer than I'd ever been. I suppose my love for him is a bit of an enigma too.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey! After watching Mockingjay Part 2 and getting so emotional, I decided to write some fanfiction to cheer myself up...and I came up with a Cato/Katniss retelling. Please enjoy, and review!**

I watched Prim's face as I mounted the stage to the deafening silence of my district. I watched Gale's face then, as he held her back through her hysterics. I think it was worse, his face. It was emotionless, yet held so much utter loss that I had to hold back a sob. But it wouldn't do well to cry.

After all, I was on national television.

When they called Peeta's name, Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread - something inside me shattered. The boy that saved my life all those years ago. I kept shattering, the noise coming out of Effie Trinkets mouth was just a mix of letters and syllables.

I would have to kill him. But I wasn't sure if I could.

They gave me a moment with my family while we waited for the train to arrive. I held on to my mother and begged her to stay present, for Prim. Because if I didn't make it back, my sister would be all alone.

I embraced her next, trying to hold on to Prim's warmth, her sweet innocence that she'd somehow kept.

"You have to win," she said to me.

I wonder if she knew what that meant. "I'll try Prim. I'll try my hardest," I said, holding back tears.

"No, you have to win," she insisted. We looked over at my mother, staring at a tapestry on the wall blankly. I held back my sheer hatred for her, and tried to turn it into determination.

If I didn't win these games, Prim would be as good as dead, and I wasn't about to let that happen.

"I will win, Prim. For you." I looked at her for what could be the last time as they dragged them away. Gale was next. He pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Catnip." he said.

I drowned out the rest of his words and absorbed the feeling of safety I felt when I was near Gale, my partner. My only friend.

I would never feel this safe again.

* * *

The lush, expensive train reminded me of a coffin. Not the thin wood kind they gave to the dead unrecognizable Seam miners after explosions.

Not like the kind of threadbare box they buried my father in.

But the nice, fancy kind of coffin. The kind they buried presidents in. Like Snow. I shuddered, shaking away my treacherous, illegal thoughts. I leaned up against the window of the comfy moving coffin. At least there were windows.

I was alone in the train compartment. Everyone else was…elsewhere. I had no clue where Peeta was, and Haymitch, our mentor had yet to grace us with an appearance. Everyone in 12 knew the guy was a drunk, but I think I would be too, sending kids off year after year to an inevitable death.

Especially when he himself experienced the Games as well.

I realized then, that if I did win, I would become Haymitch. Alive or dead, I was no longer anything but a pawn, a slave to the capital. Tears threatened to make an appearance, but I held them back for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day.

An Avox girl appeared out of nowhere, a tray in her arms. I took the tray from her gratefully. "Thank you so much," I told her, meaning it completely.

She nodded and smiled a bit at me, quickly disappearing and I smiled back.

Maybe I made a new friend.

I looked at the tray then, and there was a tea kettle along with milk, sugar, honey and the like. I made myself a cup gratefully, my body quickly warming. There was a huge sandwich, as well as a couple of pastries that I'd only ever seen, through the window of the Mellark's bakery.

When Prim was a little girl, whenever we'd pass the bakery she'd start to cry at all of the pretty cakes in the window. "Please, Katniss?" she'd beg, her voice still holding onto a childish whine.

"No, Prim. We can't, I can't afford it," I told her. I began to cry too because I couldn't give my only sister something sweet, something nice. Even on her birthday, there wasn't any cake to be found. That year I escaped to the forest and found a patch of tulips. I picked her a bunch that were as pretty as she was.

But that was all I had for her. So when she brought home a scruffy old cat that day, I let her keep it. Because I would do anything for Prim.

I pushed the pastries away, and focused on the sandwich, which was as deliciously decadent as it looked. But the dessert stared me down, and my thoughts returned to Peeta.

His life was so different from mine. If my life was the burnt loaf of bread he threw towards me out of pity, his life was this pastry in front of me. Sweet, happy, carefree. The Mellark's were lucky, one of the few people that were considered 'well to-do', at least by Seam standards.

He didn't want for things in the same way my family did. He had new clothes, freshly ironed. I was lucky to have the hunting jacket left for me by my father when he died, to protect me from the cold I wasn't jealous, I swear that I wasn't. But I wondered if his luxurious life would be of any help to him in the Games.

Because my tough life had only made me tougher. And I wasn't afraid to be tough. I sunk my teeth into the pastry. Delicious.

* * *

After I ate, I gathered enough courage then to go see what had become of my other companions. I walked through a couple of train compartments that were eerily all very similar, until I found them. They sat at a wooden, mahogany type of fancy table, with a full lunch spread out in front of them. I felt a bit jealous looking at them, but when I noticed the tense silence, I was glad that I was able to eat alone.

I took a seat at the table, next to Peeta. The scent of alcohol that seemed to follow Haymitch wherever he went made me think that this wasn't going to be an easy conversation. We needed to talk though. I stared down the cutlery that sat on the table in front of me.

"Hey Katniss," Peeta was the first to speak.

Our eyes met, and I looked away quickly. The longer I stared at his blue eyes the guiltier I would feel. I can't be indebted to anyone in these Games. Not when I was going to have to kill him.

I turned to Haymitch then, away from Peeta and his kindness. "So mentor. What tips do you have for the Games," I asked.

He snickered. "Stay alive." Haymitch laughed, as if that had been a funny joke. Neither Peeta nor I laughed.

"Seriously," I asked. He was the only one that could help us.

"Oh, I am serious sweetheart," he said, reaching to grab another drink from the bottle. This infuriated me. Our mentor was here getting drunk, while our lives were on the line. Yes, I get that Haymitch has had a hard life, but this year was different. I was't one of those twelve year old Seam kids being sent to their deaths. I'm sixteen years old, and I have more fight than the last ten girl tributes from my district combined.

And I had to show him that.

Before I had a chance to rethink my decision, I picked up the shiny silver butter knife and brought it down on Haymitch's hand, inches from the bottle. It missed his fingers by mere centimeters, going straight through the mahogany table.

Haymitch chuckled. "So you're going to win the Games with a butter knife?" But I could tell that he was shaken, already beginning to sober up.

Peeta's face seemed to change, he looked at me like he was shocked of what I was capable of. "Katniss, you could've took off his fingers!" he exclaimed.

"We'll I didn't," I shrugged, "It seemed to sober him up a bit. Do you want to die when the buzzer goes off?" He too had family to come home to. We weren't going to learn anything if our only source of guidance was a deadbeat.

"No," Peeta said. "I don't." There was a new look of determination in his eyes. "Talk, Haymitch."

Haymitch rolled his eyes, making a few comments about my sunny disposition and how I needed to smile, otherwise I wouldn't get any sponsors. But I could sense a shard of respect as he looked at me. I'd earned it. I pretended to ignore him, putting my messy hair into the braid I always wore. But I put his comments in the back of my mind, for later. If smiling is what it takes, then I would smile. For Prim.

One of the first things Haymitch suggested is that we know thy enemy. By now, the sky was getting dark, and the reaping had already been televised in every district. But of course, the Capital had put together a nice little 'reaping recap' so no one would miss out on the fun.

I frowned in disgust, wanting so badly to be anywhere else. But I forced myself to stay seated, on the big plushy couch that seamed to be pushing me closer to Peeta.

God, I wanted to be anywhere else.

The show started, of course beginning in 12, the lowest of the low. But the commentary was more exciting than it had ever been.

The screen showed Prim, her eyes going wide with shock when her name was called. Then the screen panned to me. I couldn't hear my own voice earlier, as I volunteered. But now I could.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute," the me on the screen yelled, more confidence in my voice than I thought I had in me.

The camera followed me up the stairs, and I could see for the first time the shocked faces of the others in the crowd.

I heard screaming. The camera went to Prim, with Gale's strong arms holding her small body. I couldn't take it anymore. i couldn't see the faces, Gale's face. I couldn't hear Prim's cries.

I tore my eyes from the screen and got up abruptly. "I need a bit of air," I managed to choke out.

Peeta looked like he wanted to come with, but I got out of there before he could ruin my short bit of alone time. I stepped into a room labeled 'Ladies Restroom' so I could dry the tears that I let fall.

The room really was a rest room. There were sofas and chairs. Magazines littered the tables. Art hung on the walls, and soft music played. I didn't get to hear a lot of music back home, mostly just what my father used to sing to me. I held back another wave of tears, and located a tissue in expansive bathroom.

I washed my face and took a deep breath. I made it back to the common area just as District 10's reaping began. "What I miss?" I asked.

Both boys jumped a bit. I feel Haymitch's gaze on me, which felt a little strange. I looked over at him, and saw something that looked a bit like concern. But why should he be concerned about me? He doesn't know me.

"A tiny girl, and a huge boy. Both from 11," Peeta answered me.

Districts, 10, 9, 8, and 7 went on without much fanfare. The commentary was far from what they gave me. But I'm sure that dialogue would return as we got toward the Career Districts.

The Careers had been training for this their entire lives. Or at least, that was the rumor. They were kids, just like the rest of us. Yet they were a deadly force. Trained to kill. In Districts 1, 2 and 4 it was considered an honor to participate in the Hunger Games. After all, those were the ones that usually won.

The girl and boy from District 4 weren't much, to my surprise. But once they got to District 2, I began to get nervous. The girl had dark hair and pale skin. She was about my size in stature, just shorter. But she had a deadly gleam in her eyes, and I knew she would be trouble. Clove. Happy to volunteer.

The boy was next. The announcer had barely picked a boys name, when someone was already coming forward. "I volunteer." a voice called. The crowd separated around him, and I could finally see.

He had broad shoulders, but not too broad. I could see the muscles in his arms through his shirt, and a strange part of me wondered what it would be like to be wrapped in them. He was blond and very fair, a complexion that kind of reminded me of my sister. But this boy was healthy. He seemed to glow, his perfect tan speaking of time outside, but of just enough time. He wasn't working in the fields, but he was able to explore the sunshine.

"What is your name?" the announcer asked, wearing something even more garish than Effie which I didn't think was possible.

The boy smiled, a feral kind that told my body that he was a killer, looking for prey. Evil or not, the smile brightened up his face to a degree so high, that he began to remind me of the sun.

"Cato Greene" he said.

My heart skipped a beat.

 **A/N: I hope you enjoyed! I haven't written THG fan fiction since middle school but I had so much fun with this! Look for a Thanksgiving update! Please review, and favorite! :)**

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	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know I said I would update on Thanksgiving but I was inspired. Plus the reviews I received(thank you!) made me want to put another chapter out there! Enjoy! :)**

If I was acting strangely, no one mentioned anything. But I felt strange. My whole body did. I realized I was breathing a bit erratically, and forced myself to calm down. All over some strange boy from District 2.

I was never one of those girls. Back home, there wasn't much more than teenage romance drama to entertain us. I always stayed out of it though. I was too focused on keeping my mother and Prim alive. Plus, no boy would be interested in me.

Gale definitely got his fair share of women though. I smirked in remembrance. I was sort of his wing women. Not that he needed me. The girls loved Gale, for his body, smile and hair. The guys hated him, because he could steal their girl without even thinking about it.

I was going to miss Gale.

There wasn't much to really notice about the tributes from District 1 except for the fact that they looked very much alike and had really silly names. I'm sure they were still deadly, regardless.

The screen went dark, the announcers wishing us all a Happy Hunger Games, and all I wanted to do was sleep. But I couldn't. We'd be arriving in the capital anytime now.

"Who do you see as your biggest competition?" Haymitch asked, seemingly even more sober.

Peeta began to speak, but I cut him off. "District 2. Boy."

Haymitch nodded in approval or assent. "Cato Greene."

"Cato," I said, my lips forming his name for the first time. Cato. "I'm going to kill him."

"It won't be easy," Haymitch said.

"None of this is," I whispered. Yet I knew they caught my words.

"What about you, Peeta?" Haymitch cleared his throat.

Peeta shifted in his chair. I could feel his eyes on me. "I still think Katniss here is going to—"

"Cut the crap, Peeta," I exclaimed. I was so done with his friendly, kind comments when he knew very well what would become of one or both us in a matter of days. We may even be responsible for the others death. But I swallowed those thoughts and said instead, "Peeta, I know there are others who are stronger than I am. Don't flatter me," I finished, struggling to maintain an even tone.

I think Haymitch understood what I was thinking. I wondered if he'd known the female tribute from 12 in his day. Truthfully, I didn't want to think of it. Because I knew what became of her.

* * *

The train pulled into the station in the capitol. Peeta went to the window of the train and I followed, begrudgingly. I remembered then, what our mentor had said earlier. I had to smile and wave, if I wanted them to like me. If I wanted to live.

So I did. I smiled and waved like my life depended on it. And I supposed that it did. I laughed at their funny outfits, but at the same time marveled at the colors. The citizens looked ridiculous, but as I let them blend together, into a giant rainbow, the sight in front of me became a strange kind of beautiful.

So I smiled and waved. To the spectors, the people that silently rooted for my death, even after they swooned from the kisses I blew toward them. They caught my kisses, and hoped that I would die, in some brutal and exciting way.

I was nothing but an actress now. Playing a part. The best deaths in movies were the saddest, or the most brutal. It was now my job to give them that, to be a crowd pleaser and put on a show.

But I wouldn't. I refused to. The only thing they liked better than a dead tribute was a victorious victor.

We unboarded the train then, the crowd ebbing and flowing around us. The reporters called our names, photos were snapped. We didn't have cameras like those back home. I focused on the people. I touched the hands of the people who held theirs out out for me. I blew kisses. I took the small gifts the people offered me; trinkets and charms and jewels.

There were flowers, thrown at my feet, and shoved into my arms. I laughed, forcing a look of pure joy on my face. Truly, all I felt was disgust. I thanked them, the kind but utterly misguided group of fans. But I smiled for the cameras, and prayed that I would receive some sponsors from that act.

I continued into the Training Center, where all the tributes would be staying. Peeta was right behind me, and I could feel anger radiating off of him. And it was directed toward me. As soon as Haymitch, Peeta and I stepped into the elevator, headed up to level 12, he sprung on me.

"What the hell was that, Katniss?" he asked in anger.

I realized then that he didn't have anything in his arms. I thought of how I must look to him, like I was enjoying this twisted game. But I wasn't.

"I'm trying to stay alive Peeta! I'm getting sponsors for myself. If you were smart, you'd do the same, instead of acting like you hate all of this," I retorted.

"I do! I hate all of this!"

"And you think I don't?" I hissed. "But I can live with the lies if I get a chance to live!"

I looked to Haymitch for approval. It's crazy that I was already trusting him. Only hours ago, I nearly took off a couple of his fingers.

He smiled a little sarcastic smile at me. "Guess you aren't as obtuse as I thought you were." But I could sense the respect in his tone. I was making a smart move, and he knew it.

The door to level 12 finally opened and I was shocked. The place was huge. It seemed to be decorated in bright colors, like the clothing of the people outside. But it was muted to a degree in which I didn't need sunglasses. Art decorated the walls, and plush, comfy sofas filled every nook and cranny. There was a grand, mahogany dining table that made me smirk. I wondered who would be sitting there. Just the three of us? How awkward.

There were two Avox girls in the dining area ready to attend to us. To my disappointment, the girl from the train was absent.

"I'll show you to your rooms," Haymitch said. We followed him down a hall silently, none of us in the mood to speak. I ran my hands along the wallpaper covered wall, and wondered if anyone before me had too.

We arrived at my room first. The door simply read 'Girl Tribute'. I entered my room, as my male companions left me be.

I took in my room. It was huge. Near the size of our home back in 12. But at least, that was home for me. Most of the time.

This room was empty, sterile. A large bed dominated the room, and I sunk down on it gratefully. There was also a closet and a dresser, both of which I didn't care to look through. There was a screen on the wall as well, but I doubted that I would ever look at it. There was a closed door in the room as well, what I assumed was the bathroom.

I thought about freshening up, but I decided against it. The comfiest bed I'd laid upon pushed me toward a restless sleep.

* * *

When I awoke, I went out into the main room. Haymitch was sitting at the table, pouring himself what didn't look like his first drink. He was reading some large volume, a book without a title. Without looking up from it, he spoke. "Where's Peeta?"

"How would I know?" Before I'd gone to sleep, we had't exactly left things on the best note.

"He's not in his room. Find him, I'm starving and I want dinner."

Here was Haymitch, making me run around when I was probably going to be dead in a couple of days. How sweet. But I went anyway, first to the roof which I deemed a great spot for me to return to, and then down to the ground floor.

I walked around for a bit, but there was no Peeta to be found. The reporters outside freaked when they saw me, banging on the windows. I returned to the elevators in a hurry, hoping my unwashed face wouldn't appear on a screen tonight.

When the door 'dinged' open, I rushed inside, not even realizing there was another inside until I rushed straight into his rock solid chest. A breath caught in my throat.

Cato.

He smirked.

 **A/N: So what did y'all think? Please leave me a review(I cry everytime) and favorite and follow this story so you know when its updated! See you for Chapter 3 in couple of days!**


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